


Stories From Sad Children

by Limen



Category: Persona 5
Genre: CW: Suicide, M/M, cw: suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 18:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16373057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limen/pseuds/Limen
Summary: Star Forneus 2 has to better than the regular, right? It had co-op, too! Akira beat the first one, so he'd probably wanna try it out!





	Stories From Sad Children

The door to LeBlanc shudders unexpectedly around 9:30 PM, the bell bouncing violently from the impact while muffled swearing leaks through the glass window. Ryuji just about kicks in the door to LeBlanc in his excitement. " _Dude!_ " he shouts, "Have you heard about flash carts? I just learned about them and told Futaba, and she helped me find a place in Akihabara that sold one for the Famblycon with every game on it!" Ryuji takes the stairs to the attic two, almost three at a time in his rush. "You better be ready for me to kick your ass at Star Forn- What the hell?"

Ryuji knew that Akira worked a lot of nights, either for pay or some of his contacts in Tokyo (he never told anybody what he was doing or where he was going, but even Ryuji knew better than to ask why Akira's sneaking into the Airsoft store in the evening). But Sojiro's sharp tongue and authority over his living situation made damn well sure that he wouldn't leave the door to LeBlanc unlocked unless he was home. But... Ryuji's there and nobody else. Akira wasn't home, just a Shujin uniform draped over the chair in front of the TV, quietly spewing static into the converted space. Ryuji, thankfully, didn't have to ponder the mystery too long before he saw the curtain drifting in and out the open window on the night breeze, and heard some heavy scraping noises above his head. Through the ceiling. Ryuji rubbed a hand through his hair, blew out some air through his clenched teeth, quietly put the bag down next to the yellowed Famblycon, and walked over to the window.

The fire escape wasn't much more than a lattice of grimy wrought iron, after all, it was a squat, two-story building, and its upkeep wasn't as critical as some of the apartment buildings across the street. But it went to the roof, and the recently rubbed stripes of dirt and dust and mildew made it clear that someone had climbed up the ladder recently. Ryuji gave it a tentative shake to assess its stability, then quickly scrambled up the slightly swaying steps, refusing to look down until he had at least three limbs on the roof. Keeping his lips clamped shut with his teeth, he looked around wonderingly. Besides a couple of chimneys and the vents for the different businesses around the neighborhood, there wasn’t much else up there besides an Akira, slumped against LeBlanc’s vents, arms wrapped around legs tucked under his chin, head tilted back to the stars with unfocused eyes.

He looked so different here. At school he was quiet, but normal, trying so hard to shrug off the whispers and mutterings of a suspicious student body. In the Metaverse, he was free-wheeling, flamboyant and completely at ease, despite the life-and-death nature of their activities. But now, Akira was completely within himself, slowly breathing through his nose and ignoring the cloudy breath drifting away in the fluorescence of evening Tokyo, instead looking miles ahead, lost. Ryuji didn’t want to break his reverie, but a quick glance from Akira’s eyes told him he’d already be spotted, so he opened his mouth slightly to let go of his teeth, and quietly stepped over and sat down with only a mild thud on the opposite side of the vent. Even then, Ryuji waited. He’d picked up a few tricks from his leader’s own playbook, and now seemed the best time to practice letting the other party go first. Akira’s first deep breath was heavy and staggered, the emotions barely held back through all of his practice.

“It could have been so much easier, Ryuji,” Akira muttered, softly enough that Ryuji had to scoot around to Akira’s left to catch the tail end of it all, “it could have been so different. I didn’t have a plan, but… I knew what people wanted of me. Now, all they want is nothing of me, and we’re giving them everything. What are we thinking?”

Ryuji, to his credit, managed to not fidget, instead putting all his focus on his ~~leader’s~~ his friend’s words right now. Akira wasn’t the one who was supposed to be vulnerable like this. It was Ann and him who were supposed to be bucked up by Makoto, by Futaba, by ~~Yusuke~~ , well, maybe by what Yusuke was doing, but always by Akira. Now he had to struggle for the words, when every other time it was easier to be a flash of emotion and fury against the world.

“Akira, I’m not gonna pretend I know what’s going through your head right now. I’m not even gonna pretend I ever know what you’re thinkin’ unless you’re giving us the plan right then and there. But like…” Ryuji trailed off there, his head moving to follow Akira’s gaze into what stars could pierce the muddied yellow night sky.

They sat there for a few minutes in the quiet.

Then Ryuji tried again.

“There was this kid from middle school, yeah? Not the best at exams or sports, but he did OK. At sports, I mean. He was able to make the other kids laugh every now and again, and he had some friends, and friends who were girls. Not like, a girlfriend. His parents were OK, too. The mom had a kick-ass yakisoba and the dad- The dad was a dad, right? He worked a lot, and barely made it to meets, but he did good enough. And then he was gone. Said he was gonna grab some beers while mom was grilling some fish, and it took 15 minutes. 30 minutes. 2 hours. A month. The bastard just vanished and left. And then it was all gone, yeah? You and mom have to move to a smaller, crummier apartment. Funny looks, whispers, a riceball to the head one day at lunch. It got old, fast. He learned pretty quick that yelling a lot and waving a lunch tray around if somebody tried gettin’ too smart seemed to help. ‘Problem child,’ right? Mom cryin’ on the phone at the principal, sayin’ she can’t afford textbooks this year. Kickin’ in your locker does a good job of makin’ people respect your space. A kid makes fun of you for buyin’ a dolphin on a field trip. You throw a punch. Your best friend just… stops talking to you one day.”

Ryuji’s voice was low and flat. His eyes drifted down to the plumes of steam vented from the bathhouse across the street, externalizing the need to move and stamp around and rant at this moment. “Anyway. It piles on, and on, and on. And on… Then one day you intentionally miss the bus home, and walk. You’re not paying attention. Why does it matter, right? You see the other people around you, walking and stopping, and you sort of gauge traffic off that. But there’s that… voice, right? The quiet muttering that maybe something will happen and you won’t have to worry about it anymore. Mom can reset completely. Then I hear… water.”

Akira fixated on Ryuji at this point, his mouth frozen between breathing and talking, stock-still. “I guess I made it to the waterfront. It was pretty crummy that night, so nobody else was out. And it’s me, a rail, and Tokyo Bay, yeah? Easy… right. I still remember how my hands felt around the bar. I wouldn’t have to care again. I wouldn’t have to live with not being what everybody wanted to deal with. Easy.”

Ryuji stops for a moment, and now his own breathing is slow and stuttered. “I can imagine the two seconds after that. I thought it was gonna go a lot longer. You’re supposed to be able to relive your life in that time, right? Maybe get a glimpse of what could have been. But then I was just hanging there from my pant leg and there’s this couple holdin’ onto each other and me, screaming, crying. I guess they pulled me back up. Before and after all that’s hazy. Next thing, I’m at the police station and they’ve called mom. Student ID lookup, or something. They threw a blanket around my shoulders. But the couple’s still there, making sure I’m OK. I feel like shit that I don’t remember their names. I just remember, when they were on their way out when mom got there, the blonde woman hangs back a sec, and she whispers to me, ‘You need something to live for? Try yourself. Fuck those guys.’ And winks at me. I mean, people really do that? But, it stuck. For a little while. But I ran into you and you gave me something like that back. I didn’t remember this until recently. And workin’ with you changed it and made it, like… let’s live for those who need us.”

He takes a breath, and it was softer than before, but surer. He puts a hand on Akira’s own, balanced on his knee, and Akira’s hand tensed up and latched on desperately, shaking, gasping. Stumbled, unfinished words came out for a moment, but Akira went limp, and quietly put his head on Ryuji’s shoulder. They sat there for a moment, in the half-light, needing each other.


End file.
